From the first love story to be found in Rig Veda to desperately looking for ‘the one’ on dating apps, the legacy of love has always existed in India. It has persevered through war and peace, laughter and tears, good and bad, to finally take its current shape in modern times as ‘modern love’. There are many ways to see, describe, and feel it. But one undeniable thing about it is that, as compared to Western countries, love in India is a multi-faceted being caught up in a complicated web of caste, class, religion, adulting, proximity, and social media. So how young Indians are navigating the complexities of love?
How far will you go for love?
Be it the legend of Sohni and Mahiwal about swimming through a river or the song Saat Samundar Paar on the yearning to cross seven seas, fated lovers transcend borders of all kinds, to meet one’s beloved. Take, for example, the infamously famous love story of Seema Haider and Sachin which was televised heavily to make it inescapable.
The younger generation is no exception. We are facing the challenges of long-distance relationships confusingly yet courageously. In fact, contrary to popular belief, they are going the extra mile to make their relationships work. Quite literally. It doesn’t matter if there is a physical distance spanning cities or countries.
Trisha, a 20-year-old student at Delhi University, meets her partner Jay (both names have been changed to protect their identity) only twice a year. He lives in Mumbai and she is in Delhi. Their two-year-long relationship started, solidified, and flourished online over flirtatious tweets, Instagram stories’ replys, and video calls. Trisha admits that, at the beginning of their relationship, both were clueless about how they would make it work. But somewhere between “romanticizing Dilli and Bombay together, in an old-school way,” they have found their home in each other. She puts it simply, “I guess distance does not really matter when we find our home. We just know.”
Another friend of mine who requested anonymity shares that 5 months after meeting her partner, they were separated because of COVID-19. The first year of their relationship was spent long-distance and now he’s pursuing his masters in Los Angeles, US. “I won’t sugar coat it and say it’s easy. It’s been tough, especially when it’s going to be 2 years since we’ve been apart, but we do it with the hope of being together at the end.”
Is love nowhere to be found?
As a generation that is blamed for being excessively online, the desires, dreams, and demands of Gen Z (people born between 1997 and 2012) are not being met on dating apps. Even after scrolling endlessly on their phones and popping their eyes out, they largely remain unsatisfied and disappointed. The idea of dating itself is so alluring that there is a complete ignorance of what it means to actually date someone. We give in to the FOMO so easily that we only care about the result, not the process. And thus the frustration.
The influx of dating apps is now more rampant than ever, offering new chances and ways to find love for people of all age groups, genders, sexualities, and beliefs. They appeared as wish-granting genies to make us meet with our prince charming or dreamgirls. They opened up new spaces to explore beyond our known circles of family, friends, and acquaintances and discover people who we might be more compatible with, but would not cross paths with them otherwise, in real life. But their charm soon wore off as we discovered there are no disclaimers about the sea of non-serious players who are looking for ‘something casual’ vs. those wanting us to swoon.
The paralysis of analysis on internet dating is not so much about the abundance of choices as much as it is about in what ways are we getting those choices to make. For better or worse, we get plenty of those which then get reduced to mere squares of the best-looking pictures with their best versions described in a few words. We can quickly reject or approach them in the fleet-footed ordain of decision-making. The language of longing is struggling to find its grammar in our digitized world. And we keep going back in circles to find authenticity when none of us is willing to be our authentic selves.
Would you change for love?
The dizziness and drunkenness of the youth get diluted very easily into a murky mix of self-actualization, where desires and sacrifices interweave. As we navigate and negotiate falling in love, prioritizing our partner’s needs and wants becomes second nature, sometimes overshadowing our own. In the pursuit of an enduring connection, the lines between who we are and who we are with begin to blur. Our personal space seems to shrink as togetherness takes center stage, even if it means compromising our autonomy. Does love always demand self-sacrifice, or can genuinely love coexist with individual aspirations? Does one have to change their whole personality to be with someone?
The younger generation clearly doesn’t think so. As per the Tinder Future of Dating Report 2023, 39% of participants aged 18-25 prioritize investing in themselves, placing personal growth and mental well-being at the forefront of their goals for the coming years. First and foremost, they are seeking a strong foundation of respect, empathy, and appreciation for each other’s values, beliefs, and goals. Their journey goes beyond superficiality, seeking a haven of shared perspectives. Here, flaws, traits, and quirks are embraced, fostering acceptance without the burden of unrealistic expectations for change.
Aspiring to change conventional love is admirable but faces significant social barriers. While many young Indians express openness to marrying outside their caste, a wide gap exists between their stated preferences and actual choices.
Journalist S Rukmini writes in her book, Whole Numbers And Half Truths: What Data Can and Cannot Tell Us About Modern India, “caste and religion continue to play a significant role in marriage choices for urban Indians, as a 2014 survey revealed. Less than 10% of respondents reported inter-caste marriages in their families, and interfaith marriages were even less common, at just 5%.”
A 2021 Pew Research Center survey on religious identity in India revealed that a majority of respondents, both Muslims (80%) and Hindus (65%) prioritize marrying within their faith. This finding highlights the complex interplay between personal beliefs, societal norms, and individual choices. Perhaps, changing “conventional love” isn’t about erasing change, but embracing a nuanced dance between individual aspirations and shared journeys.
Is love only in romantic novels and films?
Contextually, in Indian culture, our entrenched perceptions of love have long been molded by the charm and charisma of Bollywood films and literary novels. However, for young Indians navigating the 21st century, bridging the chasm between these romanticized portrayals and the messy complexities of real-life love presents a daunting challenge.
The seductive power of “filmy/bookish romance” lies in its inherent escapism. Grand gestures, unwavering loyalty, and happily-ever-afters offer a refuge from the hurdles of daily life. In a society grappling with pervasive social pressures and familial expectations, such stories become a temporary sanctuary of pure, unrestrained love.
Yet, young Indians continue to seek this spark, and increasingly, they express it through unique date night choices. Some go on movie dates which offer a shared experience, sparking conversation and emotion through the lens of cinematic tales. Others prefer bookstore dates for a more intimate setting, fostering connection through shared literary interests and the magic of discovering new worlds together. What drives their search?
For the writer and film critic Prathyush Parasuraman, “Life draws so much of its gesturing and posturing from cinema.” He points to the trend of brides walking with movie music as a score, that went viral after Kiara Advani-Siddharth Malhotra’s wedding reel. “I think, at some level, it is foolish to sit with life or art and try and extricate which threads came from where just as it is foolish to maroon art and life into mutually exclusive categories.”
Sharanya Mannivanan’s fierce and ferocious heroines in works like Incantations Over Water, The Queen of Jasmine Country, and The High Priestess Never Marries are always guided by love but are equally aware of its absence in their own lives. “Like me, they may or may not find what they are longing for — but they will name their heart’s desires, and testify to their heart’s ruptures, and even if they must build and rebuild from ash and rubble, they find the strength to be alone without self-deceit, thus giving shape to lives of authenticity and deeper meaning.”
Beneath the neon glow of modernity and the fading sepia tones of tradition, young Indian hearts beat with an intoxicating ambiguity. They’re rebels with a cause, sailing through the choppy waters of long-distance love with pixelated devotion, proving that distance is just a hurdle, not a wall. They crave a love story that’s real, raw, and unapologetically theirs. They’re done with societal expectations and curated profiles. They want a love that doesn’t demand self-sacrifice but fuels self-discovery.
So, let them rewrite the script, let them redefine “the one,” and let them prove that love, in its messy, magnificent complexity, is a journey, not a destination. And who knows, maybe in their quest, they’ll inspire us all to ditch the fairytales and embrace the messy, beautiful reality of love, Indian style. And as Sharanya succinctly puts it: “I am in my late 30s and I have yet to know what it feels like to really be cherished by a romantic partner”, we will continue looking for the mythical being called love as we want it – steady, sexy and silly.
The writer is a Delhi-based poet and independent journalist who writes about art and culture, politics and queerness. You can find him on Instagram and Twitter as @farazkighazal
